March 9, 1996, was supposed to be a "boring" day at work. Or at least, as boring as it gets when you’re a professional river guide leading tourists through the sun-drenched channels of the Zambezi. Paul Templer was 27 at the time. He knew that river. He knew the hippos. He even knew the specific bull hippo that would eventually try to eat him.
Honestly, the way most people talk about hippos is all wrong. They see those round, clumsy bodies and think they’re basically overgrown river pigs. They aren't. They’re two-ton blocks of muscle with teeth like bayonets. And that day, one of them decided Paul was the enemy.
The moment the water exploded
Everything was going fine until it wasn't. Paul was leading a canoe safari near Victoria Falls with three apprentice guides: Mike, Ben, and Evans. It was late afternoon. The light was doing that golden, tranquil thing it does in Zimbabwe right before the sun dips.
Then came the "thump."
A massive bull hippo—a "cranky old male" Paul had encountered before—slammed into the back of Evans’ boat. It didn't just tip it; it launched the canoe into the air. Evans was catapulted into the water. Paul reacted instantly. He yelled for the other guides to get the tourists to the safety of some nearby rocks. He turned his own canoe and paddled toward Evans.
He reached out. Their fingers were inches apart. Then, the world went black.
Inside the beast
"There was no transition at all," Paul would later recount. One second he was looking at his friend; the next, he was in a dank, dark, foul-smelling place. He didn't feel pain yet. He just felt a crushing pressure on his lower back.
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He was headfirst down the hippo's throat.
It sounds like a tall tale, but the physics of it are terrifying. Paul is a six-foot-tall man. A bull hippo’s mouth can open nearly 180 degrees. He was trapped up to his waist. He could feel the slimy, bristly texture of the animal’s snout with his one free hand. The smell? Like rotten eggs and sulfur.
The hippo spat him out.
You’d think that would be the end. It wasn't. Paul surfaced, gasping for air, and tried to swim toward Evans. The hippo came back. This time, it grabbed him from the bottom. Paul was now waist-deep in the animal's mouth, feet-first. He was being thrashed around like a ragdoll.
The third attack was the worst. The hippo didn't try to swallow him this time; it just wanted to destroy him. Its tusks—which can grow to nearly two feet long—bored through Paul’s chest and side. He could feel his own blood clouding the water. He remembers looking up through ten feet of water at the surface, wondering who would run out of air first: him or the monster.
The survival no one expected
Miraculously, the hippo spat him out one last time. Mike, the apprentice guide who had stayed nearby, paddled in with incredible bravery. He dragged Paul’s mangled body onto his kayak.
The damage was catastrophic:
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- 38 major puncture wounds across his torso and limbs.
- His left arm was "crushed to a pulp," the skin essentially peeled off.
- A punctured lung (Mike actually used the wrapper from a snack tray to seal the hole in Paul’s chest).
- A torn Achilles tendon.
It took eight hours to get him to a hospital with a surgeon. By then, his arm was rock solid with rigor mortis. Doctors initially told him he’d lose both arms and a leg. In the end, they only had to take the left arm.
Tragically, Evans didn't make it. His body was found downstream two days later. He had drowned in the initial chaos.
Life after the "Bad Day at the Office"
A lot of people would never go near a river again. Paul? He went back. Two years later, he was leading another expedition on the same stretch of the Zambezi. He says a hippo lurched out of the water near his boat, and he let out a scream so loud it probably shook the trees. He’s pretty sure it was the same bull.
These days, Paul Templer lives in Chicago and works as a motivational speaker. He doesn't just talk about the attack, though. He talks about the choice he had to make while lying in that hospital bed: to be a victim or to be a survivor.
What to do if you’re on the water
If you ever find yourself on a river in Africa, keep these things in mind. Hippos aren't just "territorial"—they’re predictably aggressive.
- Listen to the "taps": Guides often tap their paddles on the side of the boat. It’s a way to let hippos know you’re there so you don't surprise them.
- Watch for the "yawn": A hippo yawning isn't sleepy. It’s a threat display. It’s showing you the weapons it has.
- Don't get between them and deep water: They feel safest in the deep. If you block their path to it, they’ll go through you.
- If the worst happens: Paul’s advice is grim but practical—if you’re in the mouth, hold onto the tusks. It stops them from tearing through your flesh quite as much when the animal shakes you.
Paul’s story isn't just a "crazy animal attack" story. It’s a reminder that we are the intruders in the wild. Nature doesn't owe us a safe trip.
Next Steps for Safety and Awareness:
- Research your guides: If you’re booking a safari, ask about their safety protocols and emergency medical training. Paul was saved because his fellow guide knew first aid.
- Respect the distance: Never push for a "closer look" or a better photo. Professional photographers use long lenses for a reason.
- Learn basic trauma first aid: Knowing how to seal a sucking chest wound or apply a tourniquet is a skill that translates to any environment, not just the Zambezi.
The real takeaway from the Paul Templer hippo attack is that resilience isn't about what happens to you; it's about what you do next. Paul chose to use his "bad day" to start a foundation for children with disabilities. He took a literal nightmare and turned it into a career of helping others navigate their own "hippos."